The Prince and The Marriage Pact

“When it comes to romantic love, it can’t be long enough.”

Keep her talking and her mind off her symptoms, he told himself. “Sounds like you’ve had a bad experience of romance.”

“With respect, Your Highness, it’s not really any of your business.”

That settled that, he thought, her frankness rankling. It wasn’t often anyone told him to back off, and he was surprised how little he liked it. Position going to your head? he asked himself. “You’re right, it isn’t,” he conceded, striving for fairness. “I was only trying to distract you.”

“A glass of wine might do a better job.”

He shook his head. “I don’t advise mixing alcohol with the poison in your system.”

“You’re probably right.” Her breath whistled out. “What’s keeping the lovebirds?”

He wondered the same thing, but for Annegret’s sake, he said, “What’s your connection to the couple?”

“Donna and I went to school together in Australia, then interned at the same TV studio. She came here on vacation and loved it so much she got a job with Carramer National Television.”

“She and Kevin met when he accompanied me to a broadcast I was doing,” the prince said.

Annegret looked surprise that he had noticed.

“It was hard to miss the sparks flying between them,” Maxim explained. He had always wondered how it would feel to fall so hard and fast for someone. Not that he could afford to indulge his feelings. Better for his crown if he kept his distance.

The way he was doing now, came the disparaging thought. Annegret had moved closer and was leaning into his embrace. He didn’t think she was aware of how her feathery blond hair brushed his cheek, bathing him in her delicate floral scent. Distance, he reminded himself.

Fortunately, Donna returned and dealt with the business of throwing her bouquet of tropical orchids, which was caught by one of the bridesmaids. Maxim and Annegret joined the throng wishing the couple well. He was thankful that everyone was too caught up in the moment to pay attention to the apparent closeness between the prince and one of the guests.

He felt a sense of relief when the couple drove away amid much laughter, ribald comments and a shower of rose petals.

“Now will you let me escort you to the infirmary?” he asked in a lowered tone.

Annegret’s long lashes swept down over her forget-me-not blue eyes. “I don’t think so.”

She was swaying on her feet, leaning more heavily on his arm. “What do you mean? You’re in no condition to go anywhere else,” he insisted.

Her head moved in a weak arc. “I mean I don’t think I can make it.”

And she crumpled bonelessly into his arms.

Chapter Two

Ignoring the startled reaction of his sister, Princess Giselle, and the other wedding guests, Maxim began issuing orders. He refused an aide’s offer to take the girl from him, and carried her through the corridors to the infirmary himself.

The castle had never seemed larger, he thought, aware of the slightness of the woman in his arms. She had reacted more swiftly to the effects of the Janus lily than anyone he’d ever known. If not for the feel of her heart thudding as he cradled her against his chest, he would have feared the worst.

Cursing himself for letting her delay seeking treatment, he gave a huge sigh of relief as he saw the doctor hurrying to meet him. A couple of medical staff followed with a stretcher.

Maxim surrendered his burden to them, aware of a strong reluctance to do so, although that made no sense. He knew she had brought the problem upon herself by trespassing in the royal apartments, but the condemnation he expected to feel wouldn’t come. Instead, he felt only a gnawing anxiety that refused to dissipate.

The doctor was heading back toward the infirmary as Maxim briefed him on Annegret’s encounter with the plant. When they reached the small but state-of-the-art facility, the antidote was produced within seconds.

Maxim felt his breath hiss out as the shot pierced Annegret’s translucent skin. She stirred slightly as if feeling the sting. Perhaps she wasn’t as deeply unconscious as she looked.

He found he was right. A few seconds later, her eyelids fluttered open. “That champagne really packs a kick,” she murmured.

“So does the Janus lily,” he reminded her gently.

Her eyes widened fully and she uncurled her hand in front of her face, inspecting the damage. “Does it hit everybody like that?”

He shook his head. “You must be particularly susceptible.”

She lowered the hand, wincing when it pained her. “Remind me to stay away from them from now on.”

He suspected she wouldn’t need reminding. He turned to the doctor hovering at his shoulder. “How long before the antidote takes full effect?”

“Almost immediately, but because of the severity of the reaction, I advise keeping her here overnight for observation,” the doctor said.

“I don’t need to stay here. I’m fine, really.” She struggled to sit up, then fell back against the pillow.

“So I see.” Maxim addressed the doctor. “You have my permission to keep Miss West here as long as medically necessary.”

“What about my permission?” she asked tartly.

He folded his arms over his chest. “After researching royalty for your documentaries, you should know that our word is invariably law.”

“You mean you ride roughshod over everybody because you can.”

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but kept his expression severe. “Take it as you like, as long as you remain here.”

Her tantalizing mouth curved into a shaky smile, her defiance plain even when she must be feeling hellish. “You realize you’re confirming everything I’ve ever written about royalty?” she asked softly.

Something snagged deep inside him, something more than admiration for her resilience. He resisted, wondering at the same time why he had to work so hard to do so. Some defiance of his own made him ask, “Isn’t that what you came to Carramer for?”

Anger flashed across her delicate features. She started to rise again, but he caught her shoulders and made her lie back, the “something” gaining strength as he touched her. He pulled his hands away as if singed.

When he straightened, she rocked her head to one side, avoiding his gaze. “I came for Donna and Kevin’s wedding.”

“And afterward?”

“A holiday.”

“And then?”

“All right, I had some thought of researching the Champagne Pact for my TV series.”

If she hadn’t felt so terrible, Annegret knew she wouldn’t have made the admission so readily. In her experience, people were more open if they didn’t know her purpose, at least not at first. Ethics demanded that she identify herself at some point, but she hadn’t lied to the prince. She had come to his country for Donna’s sake.

As teenagers, she and Donna had sworn a childish oath to attend one another’s weddings, imagining the handsome men who would one day sweep them off their feet. It had happened to Donna. For herself, Annegret wasn’t sure it was ever going to. Prince Maxim might look like the magnificent specimen who had starred in her young dreams, but there the resemblance ended.